


Skin to Skin

by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Boys In Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Spooning, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers has nightmares, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Top Steve Rogers, Top Tony Stark, Touch-Starved, touch averse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoctoraday/pseuds/justanotherrollingstony
Summary: “Will you…”Steve hesitates and Tony brushes his hair back from his face as he lifts his chin to look up at Tony once more.“Will you stay?”Tony’s at a loss because sure, he and Steve are friends now, really good friends actually, and yea, he’s been helping him with the touch aversion thing and maybe Nat had said Steve liked him, but that didn’t mean…He waits too long to answer and Steve presses his face fully against Tony’s stomach, breathing hot and wet and whispers out please in such a heartbreaking way that Tony breaks instantly.“Yea, course Steve, I’ll stay.”





	1. Chapter 1

Tony is distracted when it happens—looking down the street to where the villain du jour of the week is using robots to fire at school buses; Natasha is atop one firing back creating a distraction while Clint helps the children escape. Behind him he hears one of the robots explode and a voice over the comms say “ _ shit _ ,” which isn’t unusual, except it’s  _ Steve _ and Steve doesn’t curse like that unless something is really wrong. 

 

He spins and feels his stomach drop—Steve is down on one knee, wincing, blood on his face and uniform. He lurches toward the man and halts when Steve lifts a hand to keep him back, wincing as the shrapnel that’s imbedded in his back tugs painfully. 

 

“Not now Iron Man, focus on the threat,” he murmurs into the comms, lifting his chin to meet Tony’s gaze, nodding weakly to communicate his assent for Tony to leave him behind. 

 

He doesn’t have time to argue; a trio of robots lands and begins firing at them with cheap knock offs of Tony’s repulsor technology and he stumbles back, blocking his face while JARVIS runs a situation analysis. Two rays hit him in the chest before he recovers and turns, blasting them into sludge. 

 

“How you doing Cap?” 

 

Silence

 

He chances a glance over his shoulder and his lungs constrict—Steve is face down on the ground, motionless and bleeding.

 

He wavers with indecision; “Widow, Cap is down, I’m covering him. We need to end this,” he says, fear lodging in the back of his throat. 

 

There’s a long moment of silence and then Nat makes a soft sound, “Get Cap to safety,” she responds, “we’ve got this,” she assures him.

 

He nods and uses his missile targeting system to take out a dozen robots before he gathers Steve carefully into his arms and flies off, heading to the tower.

 

He radios ahead and alerts the medical wing so they’re ready when the windows open and he flies inside. He hands Steve off to the medics and flips up his faceplate, watching as they strip him down to the waist to remove the shrapnel.

 

Steve rouses suddenly and violently, lashing out at those who are attempting to treat him, knocking nurses to the ground, on his feet before Tony can register it, scalpel in hand, brandishing it as the medical team backs away. 

 

He approaches cautiously, hands lifted to show Steve they’re empty. “Cap, it’s Tony, can you put down the scalpel?” he asks gently, stepping closer. That wild blue gaze lands on him and he’s stunned to see how clear it is, fearful, but clear. 

 

Without glancing over his shoulder he calls out to the medical crew, “I need you to go, I’ve got this.” 

 

There’s little hesitation when faced with a freaked out and armed Captain America so it only takes a few moments for the room to clear. He can see when Steve relaxes minutely, the tension in his neck easing. 

 

“Ok Steve, just you and me now,” he murmurs inching forward slightly. “Can you do me a favor and put down the scalpel?” he asks, hands still raised so Steve can see they’re empty. 

 

He’s never seen Steve like this; wild eyed and almost like a cornered wild animal. Steve stares back at him, breathing heavily for long minutes before his lips crack open and he speaks. 

 

“Don’t wanna be touched,” he grits out and ok, what? Tony’s brow furrows because he’s never seen Steve have a problem with touch before; he’s seen…

 

The longer the ponders it the more he realizes that unless it’s necessary, Steve doesn’t touch others or allow himself to be touched outside of training or combat. 

 

Huh

 

He nods slowly and adds this information to what he’s already compiled about Steve and reaches out a hand for the scalpel, “No sweat Cap, just hand me that scalpel and we’ll figure out your injuries, mkay?”

 

Steve studies him and then nods, drops the scalpel into Tony’s palm and edges back with a skittish motion that makes something in Tony’s chest ache with how familiar it is—he’d done the same when Howard would advance on him, hand raised for another blow. 

 

“I’m fine,” Steve hisses, “I’ll do it myself.”

 

Tony considers it and nods slowly, “Okay, can I stay in case you need help?” he asks softly, unwilling to upset his teammate further. 

 

Steve hesitates and then nods, edging toward the exam table. Tony shifts so he’s at his side, able to see the shrapnel embedded in his skin and the coat of blood streaming from the irritation caused by his abrupt movement. 

 

He grimaces as Steve picks out the metal with his bare fingers, tossing them in a basin as he goes. There’s a piece stuck about halfway down his back at an angle that Tony can already tell Steve won’t be able to get to, but he says nothing, allowing Steve the autonomy to try for a few frustrating moments before he sighs heavily and drops his head, jaw squaring off. 

 

“Can…” 

 

Tony waits. 

 

“Can you get it?” 

 

Tony nods and then nods again when Steve looks up, making sure he can see that Tony’s agreed to help. 

 

“I’ll use the pliers,” he tells Steve, stripping off his gauntlet to take the tool in hand and step closer. Steve stiffens immediately and Tony pauses, “I’m not gonna touch you if I don’t have to, okay?”

 

Steve nods like he’s not sure he believes it and Tony proceeds slowly, narrating as he goes. It seems to help; Steve relaxes minutely as he grasps the pliers and gets ahold of the fragment and tugs. 

 

It wiggles and won’t come free without more leverage and he takes a moment and then explains to Steve. “I need to put a hand on your shoulder for leverage. It won’t come out otherwise.”

 

Steve tenses and breathes heavily, sucking air in a way Tony recognizes as an oncoming panic attack. 

 

“Hey Steve, name five blue things in the room,” he orders, giving the younger man a nod when he looks up at Tony, uncertain and scared. 

 

His eyes dart around the room and then back to Tony, “The sterile drape, the painting, the water bottle, my suit, the shield,” he rattles off and Tony can tell it’s helped because his shoulders have lost some of their tenseness. 

 

Nodding, he lifts both hands, “You want me to take the gauntlet off or leave it?” he asks, thinking that he already knows the answer before Steve even speaks. 

 

Steve stares at his hands and then swallows, looks away. “Take it off,” he mutters, “gotta get used to it eventually.”

 

With a nod Tony shucks the gauntlet and lowers his hand slowly toward Steve’s shoulder. The younger man braces and then shivers violently when they make skin to skin contact but he leaves it there as Steve sucks air, eyes closed and face screwed up like he’s in agony.

 

“Does it hurt when I touch you?” Tony asks curiously.

 

Steve shakes his head, eyes still closed. “Just...a lot of sensory input,” he whispers hoarsely. “The serum cranked up my senses and it’s easier to just avoid stimulus where possible.”

 

“I don’t remember that in the Rebirth files,” Tony murmurs and Steve shakes his head, mouth tight. 

 

“Howard kept it out. Thought the military would think it made me weak.”

 

Tony hums and nods, “He didn’t like them interfering on his projects,” he agrees neutrally. “I’m gonna remove it now, just stay relaxed if you can.”

 

Steve nods but his shoulders tense and Tony bites back a sigh, gently squeezing Steve’s shoulder and then shifting his hand to the base of his neck, rubbing his thumb along the expanse of his throat a few times. 

 

“There you go,” he murmurs soothingly, “Just take deep breaths for me. You’re doing great hon.”

 

Steve melts under his touch, breath rushing out in a great heaving exhale and Tony’s in awe at this man who can be stubborn and rigid is now so relaxed under his hand. “There you go,” he croons, adjusting his grip on the pliers before grasping the shrapnel and pulling at the same time he pushes gently on Steve’s neck.

 

There’s a sick wet noise at it comes free and Steve shudders but holds still, still under Tony’s hand. “Okay, I’m gonna clean these wounds off—I’d say you need stitches but we both know you’ll heal faster without them,” he murmurs, smiling when Steve huffs out what sounds like a laugh. 

 

Tony preens; if he’s laughing even a little it means Tony didn’t make this whole thing worse. His hands are gentle but firm, wiping away the blood on Steve’s skin, marveling at the way the bruises are already healing. 

 

He squeezes Steve’s neck, “All done, anything else you need me to look at?” he offers, finding himself reluctant to remove his hands from Steve’s warm, golden skin. 

 

Steve rolls his head to peer up and to the side at Tony, plush lips bitten red and wet, eyes hooded, “No, I’m...I’m good,” he says with a shake of his head, “thank you Tony, I’ve never,” he swallows and closes his eyes, tilting his head to rest his cheek against Tony’s hand, a look of bliss on his face. 

 

“I’ve never had someone I could trust not to make it hurt,” he whispers and oh,  _ god _ , Tony’s gut clenches. Steve is so  _ young _ he shouldn’t be this broken—not like Tony. 

 

His throat is thick for a moment, so he nods and smiles at Steve, slipping behind his mask to keep his grief for the younger man out of his eyes. “I’d never hurt you,” he replies honestly, the weight of Steve’s head against his hand heavier than it has any right to be. 

 

Steve closes his eyes and hums for moment before sighing and smiling tiredly. Lifting his head off Tony’s hand, he stands slowly and gathers his uniform top and shield, movements slow and a little stiff. 

 

Tony waits, uncertain, unsure of what he should do with his hands now that Steve’s not under them. Steve pauses at the door and smiles at him, eyes hooded with exhaustion. 

 

“Thanks Tony,” he murmurs, lifting a hand in a farewell before turning away.

 

“Anytime,” Tony replies to the empty air, feeling a little lost, lonely and sad. 

 

* * *

 

After that, there’s a shift in their interactions. It’s minute, but it feels tectonic. Steve will sit beside Tony during briefings with SHIELD, his knee brushing Tony’s, his elbow jutting out against Tony’s bicep. They’re small things; fingers brushing when passing food, a hand on an arm in welcome or shared laughter.

 

Small things sure, but important.

 

Natasha is predictably the first to notice the change, but says nothing, eyes sharp and assessing when they’re all together. 

 

She comes to his door late one night two months after the shrapnel incident, whiskey in hand and really, he should have known better than to let her in, but there’s always been something about Nat that made him feel at home with her. 

 

Odd, considering she’s neither a very warm person or an open one, but when it’s just them, he sees her shy smiles and enjoys her acerbic wit and thinks maybe they have more in common than he’d thought.

 

They’d both been trained to hide their emotions and wear a mask for the world, to be a tool for someone else’s gain. 

 

So he gets it, when she shows up—she’s here because she’s his friend and teammate and she has something to share with him that’s not just whiskey.

 

They sit on his patio and look out at the city lights, drinking in silence till she breaks it. 

 

“He trusts you.”

 

Tony doesn’t need to ask who  _ he  _ is—not here in this quiet, honest place.

 

“Maybe,” he agrees softly.

 

“He does. He lets you near him, lets you touch him. He won’t even let  _ me _ do that and we’ve worked in the field together longer.”

 

Tony nods, stares out at the sea of shining lights and swallows his whiskey. “It’s…” he’d say  _ it’s nothing  _ but they both know that’s a lie, and he doesn’t want to demean the trust Steve has placed in him, so he shakes his head and tries again. “It’s sensory overload for him, being touched. I’m not sure what it’s like during battle but I suspect it’s combat fugue where he drops into a dissociative state so he can disconnect from that overload of input and process it as he needs.”

 

Nat nods and taps her fingers against the glass, a steady, assessing look on her face. “He likes you, probably more than he realizes,” she tells him gently, “so be kind to him.”

 

Tony looks over at her then, lips pursing into a bitter smile. “Some people would say I don’t know how to be kind.”

 

She smiles and downs her whiskey, stands and then leans over and presses a kiss to his temple, stunning him. “I know you have a heart Tony, I’ve seen it. Don’t be afraid to let him see it too.”

 

Her lips brush his hair and then she’s gone, leaving behind a bottle of twelve year old Glenlivit for him to enjoy in solitude.

 

Be nice.

 

He scoffs and drinks.

 

Show Steve his heart.

 

Now  _ that’s  _ a dangerous proposition.

 

* * *

 

JARVIS wakes him a few nights later with an urgent tone to his voice that Steve needs him. He stumbles from his bed and tugs on a sweater and briefs before he rides the elevator down to Steve’s floor, eyes still sleepy even though he’s alert after JARVIS’s abrupt wake up call. 

 

He steps off the elevator and glances around at the darkness, frowning. “J-man, where is he?”

 

“Captain Rogers is in his bedroom, it appears he is in the throes of a particularly bad nightmare.”

 

Tony pauses, incredulous. “And you think it’s a good idea for me to go in there  _ why _ ?”

 

“Because Captain Rogers has you and  _ only _ you listed as his emergency contact for situations just like these.”

 

Huh

 

Tony processes that for a moment and then nods, striding a little quicker back to Steve’s bedroom. JARVIS opens the door and he pauses at the threshold, watching Steve twitch and flail in his sleep, low broken moans and muttered names falling from his lips. 

 

“Suggestions on how to wake him without getting my arm broken?” he asks softly. 

 

“My protocol is to raise the lights slowly and play from a selection of music. Please wait where you are sir.”

 

He can do that. He can wait here while Steve sobs and calls out for Bucky, fingers tearing through the sheets as he claws and shivers. Tony’s had his own fair share of nightmares and panic attacks, but seeing Steve suffer like this...it turns his gut. 

 

Steve is strong and reliable, brave and true and Captain America. He’s stronger than ten men and a better man than Tony will ever be—so he shouldn’t have to suffer like this. 

 

The lights are coming up slowly and Steve is calming, the soft strains of Miles Davis playing as his eyes flutter behind his lids. Tony’s stomach turns when Steve rolls and faces him, the red marks on his face where he’s scratched himself fading but still obvious. 

 

The lights are still low and the music is playing, and Steve opens his eyes and looks straight at Tony, panic and fear bright alongside his crystalline blue gaze. 

 

“Tony? What’re you...”

 

“Sir, if I may?”

 

Steve looks up and softens slightly, “Yes JARVIS, go ahead.”

 

“Thank you Captain. I initiated the Lullaby Protocol when it became obvious you were suffering from a nightmare more intense than usual. When you would not rouse at my urging, I contacted sir and asked him to come. Would you like me to turn off the lights now Captain?”

 

Steve looks befuddled and then nods slowly, “Yea, uh, thank you JARVIS.” The lights lower once more till the only light left is what filters in through the edges of the blackout curtains. 

 

Tony stays still while Steve shifts and sits on the side of the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face with a heavy sigh. The tension and exhaustion in his shoulders is something Tony recognizes.

 

“How many hours of sleep a night are you getting?” 

 

Steve stiffens and then his shoulders slump in defeat, “Four, but the serum—”

 

“Yea I know, but you train harder than any of us, you work on your motorcycle and draw and study—you’re taxing your body and mind and you gotta give it rest.”

 

Blue eyes flash up at him, Steve’s full lips turned down in a frown, “You think I don’t know my own body Stark? I’m not one of your robots you can just pull apart and study and boss around.”

 

Tony rocks back on his heels in surprise, drops his chin and nods, “Right, well, sure. Uh, hope you get some rest,” he mutters, turning to go—if Steve doesn’t want him here he’s not going to stay and face derision for trying to help. 

 

“Tony….wait.”

 

He pauses at the door and turns back to find Steve on his feet, a hand reaching out in supplication, shoulders hunched forward and he looks... _ small _ , small and weak and tired and  _ scared _ . 

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, glancing up through his lashes at Tony, “I’m...I’m sorry.”

 

They stare at each other for a long moment and then Tony nods and walks over to him, stands close enough to feel the heat from Steve’s skin and looks up into his beautiful sad eyes; “What do you need?” 

 

Steve’s breath hitches and he swallows hard, shuddering. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, breaths coming sharp and heavy through his nose. Tony lifts a hand slowly so Steve can see it coming, slides it gently around the nape of Steve’s neck and squeezes. 

 

The younger man whimpers and slumps, swaying dangerously and Tony gently guides him to the bed, stepping between his knees. Steve takes him by surprise and wraps his arms around Tony’s waist, pulling him forward and then presses his forehead into Tony’s stomach. 

 

Tony stiffens for a moment in surprise and then squeezes Steve’s neck, free hand falling to furrow his fingers through that mane of gold like he’s imagined so many times. Steve shudders against him and pushes his head harder into Tony, breath wet and hot against the fabric of his thin henley.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Tony croons, “I’ve got you, you’re safe, I’m here.”

 

Steve shudders again, but this time it’s followed by a sob and the wretched sounds of his gasping tears rips into Tony like claws designed to gut him. Steve’s grip on him tightens and he ducks his head, shoulders bowing as he sobs, pressing his face hard into Tony’s stomach. 

 

“Shh, Steve honey, it’s ok, I’m here, you’re safe.”

 

Tony keeps repeating the words, petting Steve’s hair as he cries, tears soaking Tony’s shirt and hands clutching at the back of it, stretching the fabric as he clings to Tony. 

 

“‘S my fault,” Steve gasps out, “fell cause of me.”

 

Tony winces when he realizes Steve is talking about Bucky, that he’s been blaming himself for his best friends death. 

 

“Steve, no, honey, it wasn’t your fault. You tried to save him. We can’t always catch people when they fall, whether it’s off a train or off the wagon—sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”

 

Steve shakes his head and moans, “Shoulda gone back, shoulda looked for him.”

 

Tony sighs and rubs the back of Steve’s neck, “And maybe you would have been captured by Hydra and tortured and experimented on. They woulda won the war. The world needed you then just like they do now.”

 

“But I needed Bucky,” Steve whispers plaintively, lifting his chin to look up at Tony, cheeks pink from crying and streaked with tears. Tony shouldn’t find him beautiful like this, it’s probably sick and wrong, but he can’t help the way it makes him feel when Steve looks up at him so sadly, eyes wet and wide. 

 

He cups Steve’s cheek and caresses the soft skin and hard line of his cheekbone with his thumb, rubbing soothing patterns into it till Steve softens and leans into his hand with hooded eyes and a soft sigh. 

 

“I know you did sweetie, I know. I wish I could build a time machine and go back and save him, make it different for you. I wish I knew how to make you happy,” he whispers into the darkness between them. 

 

Steve’s brow furrows and he leans into Tony’s hand, reaches up with his own to cover it, “You  _ do _ make me happy Tony, you do,” Steve murmurs and it sounds like a promise. 

 

Tony swallows hard, throat thick and nods, “I—I’m glad,” he whispers. Steve is still looking up at him, sorrow in his eyes and Tony struggles to pull a smile onto his lips, tears burning in his eyes but he blinks them back and strokes Steve’s hair, watching as his luminous eyes fall shut. 

 

The younger man leans back into Tony, nuzzling until his henley rides up and Steve’s forehead presses to his abdomen, the hot wash of his breath against Tony’s hip making him shiver.

 

It feels like…

 

But it’s not

 

It’s  _ not _

 

His fingers tighten in Steve’s hair and the younger man makes a soft whining sound and presses his cheek into Tony’s hip, the corner of his lips against Tony’s skin and god, god he can feel his breath against his skin and then Steve licks his lips and it brushes against his stomach and  _ god _ he…

 

He swallows hard and fights the arousal trying to burn its way through him. 

 

“Will you…”

 

Steve hesitates and Tony brushes his hair back from his face as he lifts his chin to look up at Tony once more. 

 

“Will you stay?” 

 

Tony’s at a loss because sure, he and Steve are friends now, really good friends actually, and yea, he’s been helping him with the touch aversion thing and maybe Nat had  _ said  _ Steve liked him, but that didn’t mean…

 

He waits too long to answer and Steve presses his face fully against Tony’s stomach, breathing hot and wet and whispers out  _ please  _ in such a heartbreaking way that Tony breaks instantly. 

 

“Yea, course Steve, I’ll stay.”

 

Steve nods and pulls away—reluctantly it seems to Tony, and slides back under the covers, laying there watching him. Nodding mostly to reassure himself that this is going to be ok, he slides in next to Steve and is immediately taken aback when the larger man rolls on his side and smiles at Tony, pressing a hand to his chest that burns straight through the henley and into his skin.

 

“Thank you Tony. You’re a good man, a good friend,” Steve whispers, lids drooping with each slow breath he takes. He shuffles closer and smiles sleepily at Tony, “‘M so lucky to have you.”

 

Tony stares at him as he falls asleep, watching those strong shoulders shift as he breathes, lids pearlescent and lips parted around soft breaths. He’s stunning like this—soft and sweet and relaxed—and when he shifts closer in his sleep and throws his leg over Tony’s hips and wraps an arm around his chest, it makes his already damaged heart stutter. 

 

God...he can’t want this, he  _ can’t.  _ Steve is so goddamn  _ good _ , he doesn’t...couldn’t possibly want Tony. 

 

Tony who is damaged and broken, notorious for breaking hearts and leaving his lovers behind without a glance back—Steve couldn’t want that. 

 

So he steels himself against the warm feeling in his chest, shoves it down ruthlessly and locks it away. 

 

Steve is his friend. 

 

That’s all.

 

* * *

 

Except, it not  _ at all  _ that easy. 

 

He’ll look up and find Steve in his workshop, drawing or reading or just talking with Dum-E and Steve will smile at him, bright as the goddamn sun and Tony feels like he’s going to be blinded by it, have the wings melted from his back and send him plummeting to earth. 

 

Steve touches him freely now; a hand at his wrist while Steve grins and shows him the origami crane he’s made after Nat showed him how. 

 

A bump of his shoulder when they’re cooking together on family meal night with the team. 

 

Thighs pressed together as they team up on the couch to take down Nat and Clint at Mario Cart. 

 

It’s…

 

Too much

 

Never enough 

 

Nat gives him an assessing look when she walks into his penthouse a few weeks later and finds them on the couch watching a movie—Steve’s head on Tony’s lap, asleep while Tony runs his fingers through his hair. 

 

“Be careful,” she murmurs, reminding him with a look that she can snap his neck with little effort if she wanted to. She hands him a book she’d borrowed last week and glances pointedly at Steve, “He loves you,” she says softly, “don’t be afraid of it.”

 

He rolls his eyes at her but nods, smiling when she leans down to kiss his cheek. He’s always amused that at the center of her deadly exterior is a kind woman with a soft spot for broken people. 

 

He watches Steve sleep when he should be paying attention to the movie, throat thick with emotion. Gently, he brushes golden locks back off Steve’s forehead, traces the arch of his nose and brushes against the bow of his lips.

 

He shouldn’t do this—take advantage when Steve’s guard is down like this—but he so rarely gets to touch him like this—usually it’s Steve reaching out and touching. 

 

He loses himself in it; marveling at how soft his skin is, how unlined and youthful it is, how  _ beautiful _ Steve is. It hurts sometimes, to look at Steve and see his radiant smiles or hear his delighted laughter and know he can never  _ really  _ have him. 

 

Eventually he grows sleepy too and falls asleep with Steve’s head still in his lap. He wakes sometime in the early hours of the morning to discover they’ve shifted so he’s pressed against Steve’s side, one of Steve’s thick arms banded around him, holding him close. 

 

He should get up…

 

Any minute now….

 

He stays and curses himself for his weakness.

 

* * *

 

Weeks pass into months and winter comes in howling like a banshee. The power goes out in Manhattan and the tower as snow falls and falls and falls. The generators are enough to keep the lights on for a week, but Tony shuttles the power to the city, working with JARVIS to make sure the lights stay on for the city’s residents. 

 

It’s cold, and growing colder and he’s reminded of the cave and how bone chilling it had been for weeks during winter. He can only imagine what being in the ice had been like for Steve….

 

With that in mind he seeks out Steve, smiling faintly when he finds the younger man curled up in a blanket by the fireplace in his living room. Steve glances up and smiles thinly, “Kinda thought with the marvels of modern technology heating wouldn’t be a problem anymore,” he admits.

 

Tony nods and sinks down on the rug next to him, wincing as his knees protest—he’s not getting any younger and his body reminds him of that more painfully as the years go on. 

 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “I used our generators to fuel the city for a day or so till they can get the situation resolved. I’m just going to have to get the reactor up and running so this doesn’t happen again,” he muses. 

 

Cool fingers wrap around his wrist and draw his gaze up to Steve’s. “I wasn’t blaming you,” he murmurs reassuringly, “I know what you did and why. You’re a good man Tony.”

 

Tony flushes and ducks his chin, “I uh, I dunno about that, there’s a lot of people who would disagree.”

 

“Well they’re wrong. Idiots,” Steve says vehemently, squeezing Tony’s wrist gently and when he looks up to find him smiling at Tony with warmth and affection in his eyes, that thing he’s been trying to ignore, that box of emotions he’s tried  _ so _ hard to bury, it opens and floods his chest with a torrent of feelings. 

 

“ _ Steve _ ,” he sighs and unwinds Steve’s fingers from his wrist, lifts his hand to his mouth and blows gently on them, massaging till they feel warm again. Steve watches him as he takes his other hand and repeats the actions, curiosity and something that looks like hope in his eyes. 

 

“I don’t…” he shakes his head and traces the lines on Steve’s palm, “My uh, my dad never thought much of me,” he explains, “he talked about you like you were the son he always wanted and I hated you a little because of it. So, I’m, I’m sorry for how I treated you in the beginning,” he murmurs hoarsely, “the serum didn’t make you a good man, that was already there.”

 

Steve makes a soft noise and shifts till his feet press against Tony’s hip, his arm resting on Tony’s knees, hand still held in Tony’s palm.

 

“I said terrible things to you too Tony. The scepter took those things inside us, the ugly dark parts we work to hide and let them free. I’ve seen you crawl over the wire for all of us,” he laughs dryly and shakes his head, “hell Tony I’ve seen you take a trip through a wormhole that no one else would, even knowing it was probably gonna kill you—you’re a good man too Tony.”

 

He lifts his hand from Tony’s grasp and brushes his knuckles against Tony’s cheek with a fond look that threatens to rip Tony’s guts out if he’s not careful. He wants to lean into it so badly, just give in and let himself feel…

 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, eyes soft as his fingers spread along his jaw and into his hair, thumb stroking Tony’s cheek gently, tenderly. “How long are you gonna pretend I don’t love you?”

 

It’s like a kick to the chest, the words. 

 

He inhales sharply, head swimming as Steve stares at him patiently, smiling softly, still rubbing soothingly on his cheek. “W-why?” he stutters out, because that’s the only question that makes sense. 

 

Steve smiles crookedly, “Why do I love you?” he asks, laughing softly when Tony nods. “Because you’re kind and patient when little kids want Iron Man’s autograph—you never say no, and I see the way it makes you happy. Because you opened your home to us and gave us all a home, a family. Because you’re the heart of this team, this family—you feed us and house us and make sure we have whatever we need and ask for nothing in return.”

 

Steve’s smile softens and Tony inhales sharply when he leans forward and brushes his lips against Tony’s cheek. “Because your skin feels like home against mine.”

 

His lips shift and whisper against his temple. “Because you use your brilliant  _ beautiful _ mind to help the world.”

 

His lips move and press to one and then the other eyelid and he hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes till the brush of lips against them took his breath away. “Because you see the future and want to keep us safe.”

 

A nose nudges his and he can feel Steve’s lips above his own and he opens his eyes slowly to find Steve gazing at him in adoration. “Because you made me feel safe and wanted and gave me a home in your arms.”

 

A large hand cups his jaw and he’s breathing too fast, too loud and it’s embarrassing but Steve smiles and closes the minute space between their lips, hand cupping the back of Tony’s neck as he kisses him over and over again, soft and tender. 

 

His eyes flutter shut and he sinks into it, fingers sneaking beneath the blanket wrapped around Steve to tangle in his shirt and pull him closer. Steve hums his approval and shifts his hands to grab Tony’s hips and pull until he’s in Steve’s lap, the blanket falling aside without thought. 

 

Steve kisses him slowly, languidly, hands sliding up beneath his worn flannel shirt, palms hot and heavy against his skin. Tony’s lips part on a soft moan, arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve takes advantage—deepening the kiss with tongue and teeth until they’re moaning together and rocking against each other gently. 

 

Tony is the first to break away and press his forehead to Steve’s, panting as Steve smiles up at him. “I...we...have you?”

 

Steve grins a little and nods, “Chorus girls taught me some stuff—met a fella in France who taught me a little more,” he tells Tony. “We don’t hafta if you don’t want,” he says, rubbing his hands soothingly up Tony’s back. 

 

Oh, Tony wants.

 

“I...You’re sure you want  _ me _ ?” Tony murmurs, “I was kind of a mess when I was younger and I’m not much better now. I work too many hours and don’t eat or sleep enough and I’m gonna leave my socks on the floor and burn the toast, I just, are you sure?”

 

Steve’s expression softens and he tilts his chin to kiss Tony, quick and soft. “I don’t care about when you were younger, Bucky usedta have a lotta dates that ended in alleyways and backseats, I’m not gonna judge you.” 

 

He brushes Tony’s hair back and smiles softly, “I already know you work too much and don’t eat or sleep enough, but it makes you happy, and I like it when you’re happy. I’ll make sure you eat and drag you to bed when you need and I’ll pick up your socks if you remind me not to call ladies ma’am.”

 

“I’m  _ sure _ Tony, I love you and I want you, but if you’re not sure or you don’t want me, then you can tell me. We’ll talk about it and figure it out.”

 

Tony smiles shyly and ducks his chin, “I want you Steve,” he admits, heart thumping rapidly in his chest. “I...I…” try as he might, he can’t get the words out and he wants to, wants Steve to know how he feels. 

 

He huffs in frustration and Steve makes a soft soothing noise, kisses his hair and lifts his chin so Tony can see he’s smiling softly. “Hey, don’t worry, I know. Tell me when you want to, don’t force it.”

 

Tony nods uncertainly and Steve smiles, laughs a little and then kisses him again. It grows heated quickly this time; Steve slides his hands up his back and pulls Tony down into the cradle of his hips and Tony gasps when he feels Steve hard beneath him. 

 

Steve groans when Tony grinds down into him, clutching desperately at the nape of Steve’s neck, kissing him hungrily. “Is this…” he pants against Steve’s mouth, “too much? Don’t wanna overwhelm you.”

 

“You’re not,” Steve replies breathlessly, tugging Tony’s shirt off and tossing it aside. “Perfect, it’s perfect,” he breathes, trailing kisses down Tony’s throat, doting his collarbones with licks and gentle bites that send heat rushing through Tony’s veins. 

 

“You’re perfect,” Steve whispers, lips pressing to the reactor and Tony’s vision blurs, tears slipping out as Steve kisses him tenderly. “Perfect,” he repeats, over and over as he shifts and lays Tony down beneath him, dotting his skin with kisses and bites, marking him. 

 

His hand rests on the front of Tony’s jeans, blue eyes bright as he presses kisses to Tony’s hips, “I...can I—”

 

“A blowjob? Yea, course you can,” Tony says, grinning down at him. 

 

Steve shakes his head and leans up for a kiss, “No, I mean, yea, that too, but, I, I wanna have you Tony, wanna make you feel good like you make me.”

 

Tony stares at him wide eyed for a moment, sure he’s heard wrong and then props himself up on one elbow to kiss him fiercely. “You uh, you know what to do?” he asks, lips sliding wetly along Steve’s throat. 

 

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, fingers twining through Tony’s hair and tugging lightly. Pleasure, white hot and boiling, slides through his belly at the action and he whines, arches into it and Steve makes that humming noise again and tugs harder. 

 

“Fuck...Steve, I need…”

 

“I know, I’ve got you,” Steve murmurs, kissing him hard before pulling away. At Tony’s sound of protest he leans down and kisses him again, smiling into it. “I know, doll, just gotta get something to get you all slick for me,” he whispers his kisses.

 

And that, that’s like a kick to the gut—the sharp flood of want that accompanies those words. Tony nods and releases Steve’s shirt, watches him go before he hurries to shuck off his pants and briefs, laying out pillows and blankets till a little nest has formed. 

 

It seems Steve had the same idea as Tony because he re-emerges from his room naked; cock hard and red against his stomach and Tony swallows hard at the sight, mouth watering to get his lips around that gorgeous cock. 

 

Steve laughs softly and kneels beside him, kisses him sweetly and gestures to his cock, “Something caught your eye?” he teases and Tony knocks his shoulder with his own, grabs him by the neck and hauls him in for a breathless, desperate kiss. 

 

Steve pulls away with a dazed look and presses his forehead to Tony’s, breathing unsteadily. 

 

“Too much?” Tony whispers, fingers running lightly up and down his spine. 

 

Steve shakes his head minutely and smiles softly, “Perfect.” He kisses Tony again and pushes him gently back into the pillows, hips slotting together in a delicious friction that has both of them groaning and arching into each other. 

 

Tony mourns the loss of Steve’s lips on his own but quickly loses his train of thought when the larger man pins his hips down and licks up the underside of his cock, blue eyes bright and intense on him as he takes Tony’s cock between his lips and sucks. 

 

Tony whines deep in his throat, watching as plush pink lips spread around his cock, stretching wide as Steve bobs his head and takes him deeper, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks and swallows around him. 

 

“Fuck...god bless your mouth,” Tony pants, “wish I could thank whoever taught you to suck cock,” he gasps, groaning when Steve  _ laughs _ around his cock and works him deeper, throat clenching around the head of his cock and god, he can’t think straight anymore. 

 

He cries out sharply when he feels a finger at his hole, rubbing and teasing as Steve keeps those pretty lips around his cock. Arching when it presses in, he gasps at the heady sensation of being opened and filled. 

 

By the time Steve has three fingers in him he’s so close his thighs are shaking and he’s worried he’s going to cum before he ever gets the chance to have Steve inside him. Luckily, Steve pulls off his cock with a slick little pop and retracts his fingers, slicks up his cock and leans over him to kiss him as he pushes forward slowly.

 

Tony whines and arches into Steve, gasping as his thick cock sinks deeper, sliding along his prostate with a delicious friction that makes him shiver, moaning as he’s stretched, the pleasure nearly unbearable. 

 

“So good,” Steve pants against his skin, “fit so good Tony, like you were made for me.” Tony whimpers at that and pushes against Steve, moaning as he slides deeper, cock hot and hard against his tender insides. 

 

He shakes as Steve thrusts, lips against the skin of Tony’s throat, his name like a prayer on Steve’s lips. “So good Tony, god...Tony.”

 

He clings to Steve’s broad shoulders as his thrusts grow harder, faster, meets his lips for sloppy kisses and whines as Steve lifts his hips so he can wrap his legs around his waist and take him even deeper. 

 

“Steve,” he gasps, seeing stars as his cock thrusts into him, hard against his prostate and lighting skitters up his spine, anticipation burning in his gut. His nails rake down Steve’s spine, drawing marks there that’ll be gone before morning. 

 

Some part of his brain makes a note to see how long he can get hickeys to last on Steve’s skin and then promptly forgets about it when Steve’s hand closes around the wet, hot skin of his cock. 

 

He sobs as Steve strokes him, nails biting into the skin of Steve’s shoulders as he hangs on, sweat coating his skin as Steve stares down at him, adoration and awe in his eyes. 

 

“Perfect,” Steve whispers, “you’re perfect Tony.” He strokes Tony faster, “C’mon Tony, come for me, please, please doll,” he pleads, rubbing insistently at the head of Tony’s cock, thumb caressing the head like it’s something precious and the need and heat in Tony’s stomach wells to a point of no return and he shakes, head thrown back and crying out Steve’s name as he comes. 

 

He feels it splatter against his chest and hears Steve moan, feels his hips stutter as Tony’s hole clenches and flutters, body greedy for Steve’s cock. He moans low and in broken stutters of Steve’s name as he thrusts, face twisting in pleasure at the overload of sensation on his body. 

 

“So good Tony, so good my love,” Steve sobs out and Tony opens his eyes, smiling dazedly up at the younger man as sweat drips down his brow and his throat, gleaming on his golden skin. 

 

His crystal blue gaze is intense as his thrusts grow harder, cries of Tony’s name falling from his lips like rain. Tony cups the back of his neck and hip and pulls him down for a kiss that’s sloppy and uncoordinated and perfect. 

 

“C’mon Steve honey, come for me,” he whispers, “fill me up darling.”

 

Steve barks out a curse and his hips stutter and then still as his cock twitches inside Tony, spilling hot and hard inside him. Steve groans in Tony’s ear when he deliberately clenches around him and Steve’s hips snap forward a half dozen more times, hot rasping breaths against Tony’s ear as he comes and comes and comes. 

 

Steve’s body goes limp, resting on his forearms as his heart races against Tony’s chest, thundering right alongside his. He runs his fingers through Steve’s sweaty hair, warm and content even as Steve softens inside him. 

 

Eventually they slide apart, rolling so Steve can spoon up behind him, lips pressing to Tony’s neck. His eyes are heavy and his heart light but he wants…

 

Taking the hand covering his reactor, he lifts it and presses a kiss to Steve’s palm, “I love you,” he whispers, repeating it as he kisses each finger and curls them closed. He feels Steve shaking behind him and rolls his head to peer over his shoulder, smiling softly when he sees how bright Steve’s eyes are. 

 

He leans in for a kiss and hums when Steve presses his palm to Tony’s cheek, holding him tenderly. 

 

They fall asleep in front of the fire, curled together, skin to skin and it’s…

 

Perfect. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Tony stands beside Steve’s motorcycle, watching as the taller man runs through a last check of his bike and gear. When he’s finished, Steve turns and smiles sadly at him, reaching out to grab Tony’s hips and pull him between Steve’s spread legs. 

 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he admits quietly, smiling softly up at Tony from where he’s seated on the bike sideways. His hands slip beneath Tony’s T-shirt and soon his thumbs are drawing lazy circles on his hips in a  _ very _ distracting way. 

 

Tony pouts a little, stepping closer so he can slide his arms around Steve’s neck, “Then don’t go, stay here with me,” he says with little conviction—he knows Steve doesn’t fully trust SHIELD after everything with Loki, but he wants to be a good team member so he’s going down to DC for three months to train with the STRIKE teams and run missions with Natasha. 

 

Steve sighs softly and slides his hands up the back of Tony’s shirt, nails scraping gently so he shudders, eyelashes fluttering at the sensation. “You’re gonna come visit me, right?” Steve asks, sounding for all the world like a kid instead of a grown man. 

 

Tony leans down and kisses him softly, brushing his fingers through golden locks, tugging at them gently so Steve makes a low throaty sound and closes his eyes for a moment. When they open again Tony nods and kisses him once more. 

 

“Course I’m coming to visit you sweetheart,” he murmurs against Steve’s lips, “I’ve got to go to Malibu to finalize the move of production to New York but I’ll come see you in two weeks.” 

 

They’ve discussed this already but he knows Steve needs to hear it again, so he tells him. “We’ll video call every night,” he promises, nudging Steve’s nose with his. 

 

Steve nods and closes his eyes, presses his face to Tony’s throat, inhaling the scent of sweat and grease and metal shavings that’s so uniquely Tony he’d recognize it anywhere. 

 

They part slowly and with long lingering kisses till Tony has to physically force himself to step back and smile tightly as Steve turns over the engine, the rumble of it deafening in the enclosed space. 

 

Steve’s eyes shine like bright drops of the sky, his lips quavering for a moment before he nods and takes off, the enormous garage doors retracting to allow him to leave. Tony follows and stands in the doorway, watching till he’s gone and the roar of the engine has dissipated. 

 

He won’t see Steve again for three months. 

 

* * *

 

He’s sidetracked by the Mandarin and AIM and Pepper being kidnapped and almost killed and gets stranded in some tiny town in Tennessee and because his life is one giant Greek tragedy, when he tries to call Steve and let him know what’s going on, it goes to voicemail.

 

He calls Fury and finds out Steve’s on a mission. 

 

He stops Killian and goes back to New York, repairs his suit and calls Steve. 

 

It goes to voicemail.

 

He’s working on the new technology to call the suit to him and gets an alert from JARVIS and watches in horror as it’s announced that Steve Rogers aka Captain America is a wanted fugitive. 

 

He calls and the line is out of service.

 

He tries Natasha and gets the same message. 

 

He sees images of a man with a metal arm blowing up an SUV with Nick Fury inside, chasing Natasha and Steve, deadly hand to hand combat occurring right in the middle of the nation’s capital. 

 

He watches the Helicarriers he designed and built fire on each other and go crashing into the Potomac and the Triskelion. 

 

None of the suits are ready so he takes a Quinjet with JARVIS piloting and gets to DC in an hour and thirty minutes. He’s just in time to find out Steve went down with the carriers and was critically injured, and it feels like his heart shatters under his ribs. 

 

Steve gets fished out of the river and brought to the hospital and he spends the next three days watching the man he loves sleep.

 

He meets Sam Wilson and has some very hard words with Natasha, and then he finds out that James Barnes is still alive and the whole world seems to fall out from under him. 

 

* * *

 

They hunt down HYDRA bases and Steve fights with a fury Tony’s never seen from him before, pushes the team to their limits and then a little further till they’re all ready to drop where they stand. 

 

After they get back from destroying yet another base in which they find the remains of horrifying experiments Steve paces, too much energy making him jittery as they debrief. 

 

“Steve, we’re getting this intelligence third hand from Interpol and the CIA—I’ve been reaching out to old contacts but they’re reticent to talk,” Natasha tells him calmly, “I’d like to repeat my offer to go back to Russia and try to get better intel on the ground. I’m useless here, let me go and get us the information we need.”

 

Steve shakes his head, “That’s exactly what HYDRA wants—they’d find you before you ever even got a foot from the plane and take you. I can’t allow that,” he says with a shake of his head and a wild look to his eyes.

 

Natasha’s lips thin and she cuts her gaze to Tony with a significant look, one that urges him to do something—but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do when Steve will barely look at him anymore. He knows the guilt over what the Winter Soldier had done to his parents is eating Steve up right alongside the guilt he feels over letting Barnes fall from that train in the first place.

 

He gives her a tired look and wipes a hand over his face before turning to Steve, “Nat is a professional Steve, she’s been doing this for longer than any of us have, she knows how to get into places without being detected. She can do this,” he says quietly but firmly, biting back a sigh when Steve avoids his gaze and shakes his head vehemently.

 

“No!” he grits out, hand cutting through the air in a sharp motion, jaw so tight Tony fears it might shatter under the pressure. His bright blue eyes flash like lightning when they meet Tony’s, “I won’t lose another person I love to Hydra,” he snarls before striding away, slamming the door open so hard it dents the wall and comes loose on its hinges. 

 

There’s a long moment of silence before Clint sighs, “Well that went well.”

 

Nat turns to Tony with a serious look, “He’s not dealing with this  _ at all. _ You can’t keep letting him push you away,” she tells him softly, “he needs you and he’s scared he’s going to lose you too.”

 

Tony sighs and rubs the back of his neck, gaze tracking Clint and Bruce as they slip out of the room quietly. When he looks back to Natasha, he finds her watching him carefully. 

 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, “he’s pushed me away and I’ve been giving him space.”

 

“And that’s working  _ so  _ well, isn’t it?” she retorts with a raised brow. A moment later she’s sighing and laying a hand over his, “He might be stronger than a hundred men but he’s young Tony. He doesn’t know how to make sense of all this pain like you and I,” she murmurs, lips quirked into something that might be called a smile were it not for the look in her eyes. 

 

He hates that he knows what she means. 

 

She had the red room, he had Howard. 

 

He nods slowly, tiredly and flips his hand to squeeze hers with a gentle pressure and the vice around his heart tightens when she smiles softly and squeezes back. 

 

She rises slowly, a hand at her ribs, face stoic against the pain and then leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. 

 

“Love isn’t easy malen'kaya ptitsa,” she murmurs, “that doesn’t mean you should give up on it.”

 

Her fingers trail over his neck and then he’s alone, staring out the window at the slowly fading autumn sun. The day bleeds into nightfall as he sits there, cold and lonely and afraid, wondering if Steve is trying to leave him by inches, a slow death to their love. 

 

It’s twilight by the time he gets out of the chair and goes to find Steve. JARVIS directs him to the gym where he finds Steve pummeling boxing bags, shirt drenched in sweat, swaying on his feet with every punch. 

 

He steps forward and Steve looks up, goes still and then sways dangerously, face pale and drawn. He falls to his knees before Tony can get to him, shoulders hunching as he sobs for breath, eyes blue and bright with tears. 

 

When Tony is within reaching distance Steve lurches forward and presses his forehead to Tony’s hip bone, shuddering and breathing in loud ragged gasps. His hands cling weakly to the backs of Tony’s thighs and Tony has to swallow hard as Steve falls apart, breathing too loud and fast as he cries. 

 

He hushes Steve, petting his hair, tears of his own falling despite his best efforts to hold them back. He lets Steve cry until he’s exhausted himself, breathing wetly against his hip in deep shuddering breaths, the muscles in his broad shoulders rippling with each inhale and exhale. 

 

Crouching, he cups Steve’s cheek and smiles softly, “Hey darling,” he whispers warmly, “why don't you come with me?” he encourages, “let’s go get you cleaned up and into bed.”

 

Steve’s eyes are glazed but he manages a nod and climbs slowly to his feet, swaying and lurching until Tony steps closer and wraps an arm around his waist and guides him into the elevator. 

 

JARVIS already has the shower running by the time they get upstairs and Tony has never been more grateful to the AI. He strips Steve who by now is shaking as the sweat on his skin cools, and guides him to sit on the bench out of the direct spray of water.

 

He strips quickly and joins Steve, grabbing his loofah and amber scented body wash to clean the sweat and tears from Steve’s skin. He goes slowly, gentle with his touches when he sees how badly Steve is shaking. 

 

“Too much?” he murmurs, holding out the loofah to Steve. His eyes are hazy and confused as he stares at the loofah, lips pulling down in a frown, tears gathering once more as he looks back up at Tony.

 

“You...don’t want to...to touch me?” Steve asks, shaking harder with a half sob, “‘m sorry Tony,” he slurs, tears coursing down his cheeks. “Sorry,” he whispers tiredly, curling in on himself with a hitching sob. 

 

Tony curses himself and sets aside the loofah so he can kneel beside Steve, knees protesting at the hard tiling. “Steve, baby, can you look at me?” he asks encouragingly, “c’mon sweetheart, lemme see those gorgeous eyes,” he pleads softly.

 

When Steve looks up he breathes out a sigh at the small victory. “Hey baby,” he says with a warm smile, “I want to touch you,” he murmurs, “but you seem like you’re feeling a lot right now and I want to make sure it’s okay to keep touching you. I don’t want to overstimulate you more than I think you already are.”

 

Steve stares at him for a long moment and then shakes his head slowly, a dazed look on his face. “Jus...want you,” he murmurs, words loose in his mouth as his lashes flutter and droop. 

 

Tony nods and stands, “Okay baby, just relax,” he encourages. He goes slow, washing Steve’s skin and then his hair, massaging his scalp until the large man is slumped forward against Tony’s stomach, hands on the backs of his thighs. 

 

He guides Steve to his feet and out of the shower, towelling him off gently before he does the same to himself. Steve stumbles and sways as Tony guides him to the bed, eyes very nearly shut. 

 

He gets Steve to drink half a protein shake JARVIS had sent up before he falls asleep, clinging to Tony’s waist from behind. Tony listens to his breathing go slow and steady and finally allows himself to break down, pressing his tears into the pillow as he cries for Steve and all he suffered. 

 

When he falls asleep it’s with exhaustion deep in his bones and a knot in his guts. 

 

* * *

 

They get the call to head out to Sokovia; rumors of Loki’s staff have finally solidified into something more, something credible. 

 

They retrieve the staff and everything seems good; till Clint gets injured and Steve looks like he’s wound tighter than a grandfather clock, pacing restlessly in the Quinjet while Natasha keeps working on Clint’s wound and Bruce shivers in the corner, pale and silent. 

 

When they land back at the tower Clint and Nat disappear to medical and Bruce hides in his room with green tea and meditation and Tony watches Steve stride off toward the gym—no doubt to bloody his knuckles for a few hours. 

 

He decides to give Steve an hour to work out the worst of his frustrations and goes upstairs to his penthouse to shower and change. When he finally emerges from the shower, a quick check with JARVIS tells him that Steve is still in the gym and that his vitals are growing worse with every minute that passes. 

 

Gritting his jaw, he takes off to find Steve and bring him to heel—it’s  _ long _ past time for this to come to a head. 

 

He finds Steve in the gym, pummeling a heavy bag with bare knuckles, jaw clenched so tight Tony’s sure it’s going to shatter under the pressure, and when he steps closer Steve’s gaze doesn’t budge from the bag in front of him, breath uneven and too fast. 

 

“We need to talk,” Tony murmurs, arms crossing over his chest while Steve continues to pound on the bag. It’s like he doesn’t even  _ hear _ Tony, like he’s lost—the thousand yard stare on Steve’s face so foreign it scares the shit out of him.

 

He lets a few moments pass, frustration and fear welling inside him as Steve ignores everything else in favor of pounding his knuckles bloody into the leather of the bag. 

 

Tony  _ really _ regrets designing the bags to be reinforced with vibraniun mesh when he sees the pink stains on Steve’s uniform and the reddish copper of dried blood on the wall. 

 

“Steve.”

 

Nothing.

 

_ “Steve.” _

 

If anything, Steve’s punches grow harder, breath coming a little faster now, the lines around his eyes deepening as the strain in his shoulders builds.

 

Tony recognizes what’s happening—Steve is quickly becoming overwhelmed, body and mind being pushed to their limits, being pushed by Steve till Tony’s certain that he’s going to end up broken. 

 

Steve lets out a tiny grunt of pain when his knuckles connect with the bag and blood smears, fresh and red and crimson against the leather and Tony’s decision is made for him. 

 

Steve hasn’t been this badly overwhelmed in a long time and Tony is sickeningly scared that he’s going to end up hurting himself if he lets this continue, so he steps between Steve and the bag and has a terrifying moment of realization that he’s made the wrong choice as Steve’s fist flies toward his face without hesitation. 

 

Tony shifts infinitesimally so that when it hits him it’s on the hardest part of his jaw, and he stumbles back, shoulders bumping into the heavy bag as Steve shifts and throws another punch. 

 

His head rings and spots dance in front of his eyes; he can barely breathe through the pain radiating out of his jaw and into his skull but he manages to get a hand up to block Steve’s next right hook, throwing his own in return and cursing when it connects with the jaw of steel he’s so fond of. 

 

They grapple while Tony calls the suit to himself, putting space between he and Steve till he’s covered in protective titanium alloy and Steve’s fists smash uselessly into his chest plate and head. 

 

Steve’s eyes are wild and dark, pupils blown as he screams at Tony wordlessly and attacks, and Tony’s never felt such fear in his life. He blocks Steve’s blows as best he can and gets a few of his own in, bruising ribs and an eye, desperately calling Steve’s name the whole time, praying he’ll be able to break through whatever madness this is that’s seized Steve. 

 

It’s apparent after just a few moments that Steve isn’t going to calm and he grimly resolves himself into accepting what he needs to do. He gets behind Steve and fires the repulsors on the lowest level at his knees and shoulder, knocking him to the ground in an ungainly sprawl. 

 

Hurriedly, he gets Steve in a headlock and then increases the pressure on Steve’s carotid till his flailing and fighting slows. Tears roll down Tony’s cheeks as Steve whines, high and scared, like a frightened child and when Tony finally releases the younger man, he sobs, falling to his hands and knees on the gym floor. 

 

Tony waits a moment and then sheds the armor, crouching down in front of Steve, stomach sour with fear and heart ripped to shreds in his chest at the deep gut wrenching sobs echoing through the gym. 

 

He’s careful, when he reaches out, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from shaking when he pushes damp hair back from Steve’s face. The younger man gasps and shudders at the touch, blue eyes dark and wide when he finally looks up, blonde hair damp and with a hint of copper in it that’s easy to miss when it’s dry. 

 

“T-Tony?” he gasps, chest heaving as his broad shoulders heave, fear and confusion in his eyes, the disconnect there scaring the breath out of Tony’s lungs. 

 

He paints a hesitant smile on his face and nods, “Yea, hey, you with me?” he whispers hoarsely, throat thick like he’s inches from crying—and if he’s honest with himself, he is. 

 

Steve tremors under his touch and gasps out a hitching breath, head shaking back and forth like a dog trying to shed itself of water and Tony cringes, “Ok big guy, how about we get you to your feet?” he suggests, still petting Steve’s hair softly. 

 

His nails scrape against Steve’s scalp and the younger man whines and shudders, but when Tony pulls away, Steve cries out weakly and chases after his touch, tears and desperation glistening in his eyes. 

 

“Ok, ok, I hear you,” Tony murmurs, gently inching closer so he can take Steve’s arm and guide him to his feet. Steve sways into him, burying his sweaty face in the crook of Tony’s neck, hands clutching at his shirt in a grip that Tony fears will rip right through the cashmere. 

 

It takes gentle prodding and pushing, but they make it to the elevator before Steve really collapses into him, his large heavy body pressing Tony into the corner of the metal box, skin slick with sweat as he whines into Tony’s skin. 

 

Tony’s fingers shake where they run through damp golden hair, throat thick as he listens to Steve breathe unsteadily, the younger man still pushing into him like he’s trying to meld their bodies into one. 

 

Steve’s skin is hot against his, like he’s burning up from the inside out and Tony worries that maybe they’ve finally found Steve’s limit—that maybe he’s finally going to shatter under the pressure he puts on himself. 

 

He runs a hand down Steve’s back gently and feels a rush of surprise when Steve arches into it, moaning softly. It’s not a sound of overwhelmed pain—but one of pleasure. He hesitates and then pushes his hand beneath Steve’s uniform shirt and rakes his nails down Steve’s back, something in his gut sparking to life when Steve keens and breathes out hot and wet against Tony’s neck, hips grinding forward into Tony’s. 

 

_ That... _ that is... _ definitely  _ something he can work with. 

 

When the elevator opens on their suite, Tony guides Steve back to their bedroom with firm words and a strong grip on Steve’s bicep. He pushes the younger man to sit on the bed and then steps back, yanked to a halt when Steve reaches out and grabs his hips in a bruising grip, eyes wide with fear. 

 

“Don’t go, please,  _ please  _ don’t go,” he gasps, lips wet and shiny from being bitten. 

 

Tony hushes him, stepping closer once more so he can cup Steve’s face, thumb pushing against the full lower lip that’s red and swollen and then past that into Steve’s mouth and against his tongue. 

 

Steve closes his lips around it and moans, eyes hooding as Tony pets his hair with his other hand, watching as the younger man’s shoulders start to droop. 

 

“This is what you need, huh?” he whispers, tugging lightly on Steve’s hair so the younger man whines and arches, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he moans. “Yea, you need me to push out that pain and anxiety with something good, don’t you?” he murmurs, more to himself now that he sees Steve’s face going slack with growing pleasure. 

 

He makes a swift decision and steps back, letting his hands slip away from Steve’s skin so he can draw the younger man’s attention to his face. Steve whines low in his throat and his gaze is focused and steady when Tony tilts his chin up with a finger. 

 

“What’s your safeword?” Tony asks firmly, waiting to see if Steve is even capable of responding. When he’s like this; overwrought and dazed Tony knows that sometimes he gets so far down that he can’t communicate his thoughts. 

 

Steve thinks for a minute and then swallows hard and whispers  _ Hydra,  _ eyes clearer than they were before. 

 

Tony nods, thumb stroking over Steve’s chin, “Good job sweetie,” he murmurs softly, tone warm and encouraging. Steve smiles faintly at him, hopeful and soft and Tony can’t help but lean down and kiss him. 

 

“I’m gonna take these sweaty things off, ok?” he murmurs, tugging on Steve’s sweat logged uniform. The younger man nods and smiles faintly again, and Tony swipes his thumb over it, tracing the lines of his smile. 

 

He goes slow, pulling and tugging at Steve’s uniform till the top comes free from the pants, the fabric sticking to Steve’s sweaty skin. He makes a mental note to examine the fabric—if sweat is degrading the material or causing discomfort or chaffing. 

 

Through gentle commands and firm hands, he guides Steve to his feet and crouches down to unlace his boots—they come off with a little wiggling and then he’s stripping off socks, pants and briefs till Steve is naked and shivering in the cool air. 

 

Steve’s skin is still blazing hot and damp with sweat; when Tony runs his fingers down the fine bones of Steve’s clavicle and over the swells of his pecs, the younger man shivers harder and whines, arching into the touch. 

 

“Good boy,” Tony murmurs, stepping closer so he can feel the heat of Steve’s body radiating off his skin. He thumbs lightly at Steve’s nipples and watches as they peak, a gasping breath strangled in Steve’s throat at the touch.

 

“So sensitive baby, you make such pretty sounds for me,” Tony croons, using these blunt edge of his nail to scrape over the tip of Steve’s nipple. He knows it’s easily one of the most sensitive parts of Steve’s body—especially when he’s already wound up and overwhelmed.  

 

Blue eyes go wide as Steve gasps and arches into the touch, knees quaking. Tony does it again and again and again, watching as Steve twitches and shakes, his cock hard and slick against his belly, begging for attention. 

 

Not yet though...if there’s one thing Tony is certain of, it’s that tonight he’s going to overwhelm Steve till he breaks and finally lets Tony in to try and help him with the deep well of pain that he’s been doing such a shit job of hiding. 

 

He pushes Steve onto the bed, proud of how willingly the other man goes, though his body is still far too tense for Tony’s liking. Tony lets him lay there, writhing under his gaze for a moment before he decides what to do. 

 

“Turn over,” he orders softly, watching as Steve nods and rolls over onto his stomach, the long lines of his muscles taut and golden in the warm light of Tony’s bedroom. His calloused fingers wrap around Steve’s ankle, rubbing gently at the bone, listening and watching as Steve moans softly and ruts his hips down against the sheets. 

 

“Lay still,” he orders, fingers slipping away from Steve’s skin. The younger man whines but nods, panting into the fabric wetly, and when Tony circles around the bed to look at his face, something possessive and hot clutches at his gut at the utterly wrecked state of Steve’s gaze.

 

Cheeks flushed pink, lips bitten red and wet, eyes glazed with desire...he’s absolutely stunning and Tony tells him as much, petting his damp blond hair while Steve keens softly and arches into the touch.

 

“I think you need to relax baby, so I’m gonna help you, ok?” Tony asks, smiling when Steve nods and presses his face into Tony’s palm. “So sweet,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss his pliant mouth, licking in gently just to hear Steve moan. 

 

He kisses Steve deeper, hand cupping the back of his skull to keep him where he wants him, tongue demanding in Steve’s mouth. The younger man moans and kisses him back fervently, gasping loudly when Tony finally pulls back and lets him breathe. 

 

Tony pets his hair for a moment and then murmurs a soft order for Steve to lie still and steps back to strip himself down to his briefs, his own cock thickening slowly. He sinks onto the bed, knees bracketing Steve’s hips and takes a moment to just stare at the acres of golden flesh beneath him. 

 

He’s always admired Steve’s massive form, but he knows that there is much more to the man he loves than just his narrow waist and broad shoulders—the heart that beats beneath that strong chest is soft and tender, easily broken by those who see only Captain America and not the man behind the shield. 

 

It’s something he knows a little bit about, not being seen. 

 

That thought resolves into clarity for him and he leans forward to press a kiss to the nape of Steve’s neck, letting his breath puff against the damp skin so Steve shivers in delight. 

 

He does it again and again, letting a hint of teeth work in between the kisses, hands rubbing soothingly up and down Steve’s sides as the younger man makes a soft sound like a rumbling purr. 

 

Tony shifts and begins massaging those broad shoulders, frowning when he feels how tense they still are. He focuses instead on the nape of Steve’s neck, thumbs digging in to the little hollow at the base of his skull till Steve shudders and groans, the sound pained and delighted all at once. 

 

The thing about Tony’s hands is this; he’s spent  _ years  _ working in his shop, building, lifting, and creating till the sparks of the arc welder no longer hurt his scar thickened hands and his muscles no longer burn under the weight of his armor. 

 

He doesn’t fatigue easily, and he uses that ability now to attack the deep seated stress that’s gotten Steve all worked up and tense. The younger man melts under his touch bit by bit, whining and moaning the longer it goes on, hips shifting restlessly. 

 

Tony works from his neck to his shoulders, down his arms and then back up, loosening each knot before he works down that broad back that carries the weight of the world upon it. 

 

He’s not sure how much time passes that way, an hour at least, but he doesn’t relent, not when he can feel how badly Steve needs this with every inch of his body. 

 

His lips brush over Steve’s back as he murmurs loving words and sweet praise, doing everything he knows how to push away the pain and anxiety plaguing his love. Steve shudders and moans, a low whine in his throat catching and Tony recognizes the sound he makes when he comes. 

 

“Good Steve, come for me, c’mon,” he croons, kissing the small of Steve’s back as the other man gasps wetly, hips jolting unevenly as he comes with a hitching sob. 

 

Tony kisses his back again, hands rubbing soothingly up and down his back, “Good, good Steve, that was beautiful,” he whispers, voice thick with love because it  _ was _ , it was so beautiful to see the way Steve’s walls crumbled, how he gave into the pleasure and trusted Tony to give it to him. 

 

He waits till Steve catches his breath and then leans up to kiss him, gently guiding his face up so he can dot kisses over his brow and cheeks and lips. “Beautiful baby,  _ beautiful, _ ” he whispers, voice hoarse as he smiles, Steve’s hazy blue gaze meeting his. 

 

Steve’s lips shape into an unsteady smile and Tony kisses him hard, “I love you,  _ Christ _ , I love you so much,” he whispers urgently, caught up in Steve’s mouth for so long they both end up breathless.

 

They stay that way for a tiny infinity; Steve’s brow pressed to his, air with too little oxygen and too much love passing between their lips. Tony’s chest feels like it’ll crack open he loves this man so much and he screws his eyes shut, breathing Steve’s name out unsteadily. 

 

It takes him a few minutes to regain some measure of composure and in that time Steve remains still beneath him, lax with pleasure. He presses one last kiss to his lips and then makes his way down Steve’s body, lips and tongue and teeth working Steve back up slowly.

 

He bites the meat of Steve’s ass and grins when he moans and pushes back, hips arching in a plea for more. Only too happy to comply, Tony bites and sucks and licks his way down to the tight pink furl that clenches and spasms when he laves his tongue across it in one broad lick. 

 

Steve groans Tony’s name and pushes back,  _ more please more _ he begs, and Tony feasts upon his moans, his own groans joining them as he spreads Steve open and attacks him with a single mindedness that has served him well in the past. 

 

Steve is beautifully undone; face twisted in pleasure, lips bitten pink and slick, hips bucking down to grind his cock into the mattress before shoving back to try and get more—always more—of Tony’s mouth. 

 

Tony knows he’s probably leaving beard burn behind but watching Steve squirm after because of the burn is too beautiful a thing for him to pass up on. He works Steve loose with just his tongue till his jaw grows achy and then slides a finger in, shuddering when Steve cries out his name and quakes at the intrusion.

 

_ Please, Tony, please!  _

 

Steve’s voice is shredded and raw as Tony withdraws his fingers and fetches the lube, his pleas quaking in the air as Tony pats his thigh and gently pulls his hips up so he’s at a better angle. 

 

He can’t help but pause to admire Steve—strung out and gasping, face pressing into the sheets as he keens and begs Tony to touch him again. His fingers slide up the golden skin of his thigh gripping just a bit too tightly to hear Steve whine for him, Tony’s name wet and heavy on his lips. 

 

Steve gasps high and breathy as Tony’s slick fingers play with his rim, rubbing soothing circles just inside him, tugging gently when he backs them out--just to hear Steve gasp his name again in that voice that winds through his guts like molten lava and sinks deep inside him. He’s unsteady, fingers trembling as he adds a third inside Steve, pushing harder now, groaning softly when Steve moans and pushes his hips back, fine tremors of need passing over his body. 

 

Tony’s focus narrows onto this; making Steve  _ feel _ , making him writhe and moan and gasp while Tony pushes out every ounce of anxiety and fear and stress. He loses track of time, crooning praise while Steve moans and shifts under him, breath sobbing when he comes again.

 

And again. 

 

And  _ again _ .

 

Tony doesn’t know what their record is, but they  _ must _ be getting close, and Steve is only growing more desperate, whining and moaning for Tony, begging to have his cock inside him. Tony himself is shaking, entire body warm and loose, euphoric. 

 

“ _ Tony _ ,” Steve sighs, hands fisting and unclenching in the sheets, broad shoulders rippling as he pushes back into Tony’s fingers, Tony’s name the only thing he can seem to say anymore. Tony’s suddenly seized by a need to see his face, and when he slides his fingers from inside the inferno that is Steve’s welcoming body, the younger man sobs and twists, pushing his face into the sheets with a cry of desperation. 

 

Tony shushes him gently and guides him over onto his back, pushing sweaty golden locks up off his forehead so he can smile down at Steve, lips connecting a moment later in a breathless embrace. Steve moans into his mouth, arching up into Tony so he can feel his cock against his stomach--wet and hard and burning hot. 

 

He loses the plot for a few minutes, kissing Steve with a fervor that resonates out from his chest and down into his toes. A hand sneaks between them and he starts stroking Steve, light and slow; Steve shouts and arches, tendons taut in his throat as he comes, so worked up now that it barely takes more than a single stroke from Tony to extend the pleasure into something resembling pain. 

 

It’s sharp and hot in his gut and he sobs, writhing under Tony’s touch, fiery electric pulses shorting out his mind. He’s lost, entirely, crying out for more even as he sobs for mercy. 

 

Tony curses at the sight of Steve so overwrought in the best way, pride blooming in his stomach that he’s been able to reduce Steve to this. His hands shake as he slicks up his cock and pushes Steve’s thighs apart, lining himself up before pausing and reaching a clean hand down to lift Steve’s chin so their eyes meet through a haze of pleasured tears and desire. 

 

Tony smiles shakily and brushes him thumb over Steve’s plump lower lip, “I love you baby,” he whispers brokenly, and then pushes forward slowly. 

 

Steve’s eyes snap shut as he moans, head thrown back as his hands fly to Tony’s hips, bruising and too tight and absolutely perfect. Tony moans Steve’s name as he slides home--and that’s what this feels like, every single goddamn time--like coming home. 

 

Face twisting in pleasure, Steve pushes down against him, eyes slitting open just enough that Tony can see the brilliant blue of his eyes. Steve’s lips form a shaky smile and he lifts a hand, sighing when Tony leans into his touch, like he feels better with Tony’s skin against his. 

 

“I love you too,” Steve whispers, and that’s it--the dam inside Tony breaks, letting loose every ounce of restrained need that’s left him shaking for ages now. He rolls his hips hard and punches another moan of Tony’s name out of Steve, the slow pressing slide of his cock into the other man leaving him gasping hard. 

 

His hips snap forward harder, faster, and he hitches Steve’s thighs around his hips before falling forward, lips sloppy and hot against Steve’s as he grinds deep and hard into his love. Steve’s hands span his back, scraping hot lines of pain down his back, tugging hard on his hair, bruising and hot and hard and it only serves to drive Tony harder. 

 

He gasps Steve’s name into a sliding kiss that’s more a sharing of air between their lips, pressing his forehead to Steve’s as they crash together like waves in a storm. His voice feels hoarse from crying out, but the pleasure is all consuming--he couldn’t muffle himself if he had to. 

 

Steve is likewise overcome, sobbing Tony’s name as he clings to him, hands desperately moving over his skin, arching up into his hands and lips and cock like he’s hoping Tony will consume him, set him on fire and reduce him to ash. 

 

“God,  _ god  _ Tony,” he moans brokenly, face wet and hot with his tears, desperate for more,  _ more,  _ **_more_ ** . 

 

Tony’s hip hitch at the sound of his name like that in Steve’s mouth and chases the sound, the taste of it, losing himself in Steve--in the hands on his back and in his hair, in the blazing heat of his body and it’s near painful clutch around his cock, in the absolutely overwhelming amount of love he feels for this man. 

 

The sharp precipice of his release approaches and he gasps, thrusting harder, grinding deep so his cock is pushing punishingly hard into Steve’s prostate before pulling out. He uses one forearm to balance as Steve’s thighs tighten around his hips and works the other hand between them to stroke Steve’s cock as he thrusts into him. 

 

Steve’s eyes fly open, crystalline blue gaze fixated on Tony as he’s pushed past pleasure and into a world of sparkling, knife sharp ecstasy. He gasps wordlessly, whimpering softly as Tony groans his name and fucks harder, hips stuttering as he barrels headlong over the falls and into the crushing waves of release. 

 

Tony strokes Steve as he thrusts, groaning his name as his cock spills over his fist and Tony spills equally as hard, deep inside Steve. Steve’s body is clenched so tightly around him now it almost hurts, his cock growing sensitive and twitching, even as Steve continues to shudder under him and grind mindlessly down on the softening cock inside him. 

 

Slipping free in a spill of cum, Tony collapses, face pressing into the crook of Steve’s neck, breath hot through parted lips. Steve’s large hands cup his ass and the back of his head, the other man’s heart thundering next to his own. 

 

When the ringing in his ears lessens Tony shifts and presses a kiss to Steve’s lips, hushing his soft sleepy sound before he rises and walks wincingly to the bathroom--he’s not 25 anymore and his hips are more than happy to let him know just how far past that age he is. He wets a cloth and cleans himself quickly before wringing it clean and going out to give Steve a similar treatment. 

 

Steve snores softly, the thin skin of his lids pearlescent in the low light. He’s so fucking stunning it takes Tony’s breath away--skin still flushed pink, lips bitten red as roses like some fairytale princess from a book. 

 

He cleans Steve gently and tosses aside the cloth before sinking back into the bed beside him, exhaustion creeping forward like tendrils of ivy, curling around him and pulling him deeper into the loamy blackness of sleep. 

 

He wakes, hours later, to a cold, empty bed. 

 

Disoriented and bone weary, he wraps himself in Steve’s sweater, his briefs riding low on his hips as he goes in search of Steve. 

 

He finds him eventually, staring out at the shining lights of the city, bare chested and uncaring of the cool night air. Tony studies him for a moment, taking in the loose set of his shoulders and the contemplative air around him. 

 

“You just gonna stare all night?”

 

Steve shoots him a playful look over his shoulder and Tony takes it as the invitation it is and steps forward, situating himself on the granite railing, thighs opening for Steve to step between. The younger man does with a soft, fond smile, hands falling beside Tony’s hips so their lips are just inches apart. 

 

“Hey handsome,” Tony murmurs, “couldn’t sleep?”

 

Steve ponders it a moment and then nods, “Woke up hungry,” he admits with a blush that spreads over his cheeks and down his throat, “I, you…” he looks shy for a moment and looks at Tony through his lashes, “you wore me out.”

 

Tony grins softly, proud he got Steve to admit something like that. “Wore us both out,” he agrees, hand going up to toy with the wavy curls of gold hanging over Steve’s brow. “Are you feeling better than you were earlier?” he asks carefully. 

 

Steve nods and looks away, brow furrowing. “I...I think I attacked you?” he asks hesitantly, gaze shadowed when he looks back up at Tony, worry coloring his expression. Tony nods hesitantly, mouth twisting when Steve tries to step away, his hands clamping around the younger man’s waist, holding him firmly in place. 

 

“I don’t blame you, and I wasn’t hurt,” he tells Steve, “But you were--you’ve been lying to me about how much you’re feeling and how overwhelmed you are. You could have been seriously hurt Steve-- _ I  _ could have hurt you and I don’t know if I could live with that.”

 

His throat goes taut at the thought of it and he looks away, exhaling sharply through his nose. Steve makes a soft wounded sound and breaths unevenly for a moment, “I’m sorry Tony,” he whispers, voice low and rough. 

 

Tony nods, “I know. But we have to work together to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I love you too much to lose you like that.”

 

Steve’s hands feel huge, cupping his face as he leans in for a kiss that’s just barely shy of desperate, but it’s there, in the way he kisses Tony like he’s trying to stake a claim, offer an apology, or consume his very soul. 

 

Tony would let him-- _ has _ let him, really. 

 

It’s Steve’s now, unreservedly. 

 

Completely. 

 

When Steve pulls back to let them gasp for air, he opens his eyes and smiles softly, fingers brushing the soft hair at the nape of his neck as his thumb caresses the soft skin of his throat. “I promise you, we’re gonna find Barnes. We’ll get him back and keep him safe.” He turns serious for a moment, caution slipping into his voice; “But you have to trust us. We’re your family, and we’ll find him. Okay?”

 

Steve nods, blinking against tears that shine in his eyes and kisses Tony again, “Okay,” he breathes against Tony’s lips--a vow, and one he’s happy to keep. 

 

His stomach growls loudly and Tony grins, “C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you something to eat,” he murmurs, leaning up for another kiss, arms wrapping around Steve’s neck as his weight falls forward slowly, a smile curling up his lips as Steve lifts him to his feet with an ease that leaves him breathless. 

 

Steve takes his hand and leads him back inside, blonde hair glinting in the kaleidoscopic lights of the city glittering brightly below them. They work together seamlessly, reheating leftovers and scrambling eggs, laughing and moving with ease, and Tony’s heart feels light for the first time in weeks. 

 

As the sun begins to rise, Steve leads him back to bed with soft eyes and gentle hands and pushes him down into the sheets and spends the morning showing him how deeply his love and devotion run. 

 

When they join the team later (much later) for dinner, they’re both rumpled and sleepy and satisfied. 

 

It won’t ever be easy, this love of theirs, but it’s days like these that remind them of just what they have to lose if they choose not to fight for each other. 

 

So Tony fashions a band out of scraps of metal from his old suits and a smaller one wraps around it--vibranium shining brightly in the light when he gives it to Steve with an offer of forever. 

 

Finding Bucky, bringing him home, dealing with whatever the future has--they’ll do it together. 

 

Call it love, call it madness, as long as it’s endless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second part was added because AzureAshes875 asked so kindly for it, so i hope you enjoy darling!! 
> 
> malen'kaya ptitsa means "little bird"


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